“Me and Gregor will continue on foot. Secure the horses here and await our signal,” Duncan instructed the ghillies.
After tying his mount to a tree near some fresh grass for grazing, Gregor slung his bow and quiver over a shoulder. He and Duncan followed the game trail for a distance in silence. ’Twas evident from the tracks a large stag travelled with the herd. His stomach bubbled with anticipation. A successful hunt would be the first deed in which he proved his worth to the clan.
The trail led them from the wood into a large clearing bordered by a semicircle of mountains. They climbed into thecorrie.
“Keep low. Move slow,” Duncan whispered, voice rough from exertion.
They found a herd of about fifteen hind and a large stag, and stalked within two hundred yards, but the wind direction changed and the animals spooked. Gregor and Duncan climbed onto the shoulder of the hill where they could move undetected. Clouds collided, darkening the sky.
“We have lost them,” Duncan grumbled.
They retreated down the slope to the edge of the wood a substantial distance from the original game trail.
“Here.” Gregor pointed at the ground and squatted. “This track is verra fresh. ’Tis the print of a single large stag.”
“Ach, then, I will circle round. Flush him out for you.”
They entered the wood together. Gregor found a decent spot behind a large boulder at the edge of a wee clearing from which to wait. He used two fingers to signal to Duncanhe was in place, and the man disappeared through the trees. Time seemed to drag. He prepared the bow and selected the arrow with the straightest shaft from the quiver at his side.
Suddenly a hart wandered from the brush twenty-five yards upwind of Gregor’s spot. The animal hesitated for a moment, mobile ears listening, sensitive nostrils testing odors in the air, then lowered his head and nibbled the tip of a leafy branch. Not just any hart, but a sixteen-point white stag—a mystical beast. Could the animal be real? Gregor closed his eyes; rubbed them. When he looked again, the animal was still there, browsing.
Breath quickened; excitement fired his blood.
He slowly, very quietly, raised his bow and nocked the arrow, praying he wouldn’t spook the deer. The stag raised his head, ears perked. Eyes on the mark, Gregor drew the arrow steadily back until his right forefinger touchedthe spoton his jaw perpendicular to his right eye. He glanced along the length of the shaft, his aim perfect.
A lavender-winged dragonfly landed on the spine of the arrow just behind the hand that held the grip. One with iridescent green wings landed forward of the handgrip. A third buzzed his ear.
Lips curving into an annoyed frown, Gregor held the bow and arrow with one hand and shooed the bugs away with a wave of the other. His luck held. The deer continued to feed. As he prepared a second time for a clear shot, one of the bugs returned and perched on the arrow again. Stuck its tongue out at him. He jutted his head forward to better inspect the—
The bothersome creature stood on wee feet. Nae. Couldn’t be.Shehad wee feet, wee arms and hands, and a curvaceous body draped in an iridescent purple fabric the same color that outlined her lavender diaphanous wings. She raised a dainty hand and tucked an ebony tress behind a pointed ear and smiled at him with rosy lips.
“What trickery is this?” he demanded.
Tee teehee hee, the pixie tinkled like delicate chimes.
The stag skittered, bounded over a thicket, and dashed into a copse of trees.
“Shite!” Gregor burst into a sprint without giving the pixies another thought, following the rustle of fallen leaves. The beast darted hither and farther, leapt barriers, doubled back on his tracks, and led Gregor on a merry chase. Gregor’s muscles tired, but he kept going until he completely lost all trace of the animal. How much distance had he traveled? For how long? He couldn’t guess. When had the heavy mist crept over the land?
He sucked in much-needed air as he slumped against a tree and closed weary eyes. Disappointment a deep wound. The smell of damp earth combined with old fallen leaves and the rich scent of fir surrounded him. When he opened his eyes, he caught sight of a clump of coarse white hair stuck within the rough bark. The stag had come this way.
Perhaps I’ll get another chance at the beast.Buoyed by the thought, he stalked through the fog-laden wood. As evening fell, he stole from the trees at the edge of a mist-free grassy mound. A bright full moon hung from the sky. The white stag, head held high, stood at the top of the knoll beside an ancient tree. Silvery lights sparkled in the branches like evening stars.
The deer caught sight of Gregor and stared with curiosity through lustrous brown eyes. He didn’t spook, didn’t run.
This was it. This would be Gregor’s first kill since returning to Castle Lachlan. His heart beat too fast. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady his breathing. Instinctively, he rose to his full height, placed his feet at shoulder width, nocked the arrow, raised the bow, and drew the string back to his jaw. Aimed and…paused. Seemed wrong to kill such a magnificent beast.
The lavender pixie reappeared, jounced on the arrow, and blew dust into his face, startling an unintended shot from the bow. The white stag vanished as if it never existed. Standing in his place was a wide-eyed lass.
“Nae,” Gregor howled. Shock and fear wrenched his gut.He bounded onto the knoll. Thankfully, the wild shot had buzzed over the woman’s shoulder barely grazing her ear. He slid to a stop in front of her. “By the Saints, what mischief is this?”
The woman met his gaze with the bluest of eyes and stole his heart in that moment. Then those beautiful eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumbled to the ground in a faint at his feet.
What should he do? He rubbed a niggling twinge over his heart, certain he’d just met destiny. ’Twas an uncanny fate such an eve’n be charged by magic. He knelt on one knee and gently brushed a lock of light brown hair away from the soft skin of her cheek sadly marred by scratches. He frowned, grasped the lass by the shoulders and shook. Her head lolled to the side, but she didn’t waken.
“We have tracked you the better part of the afternoon and into the eve’n. What brought you to theSithichean Sluaigh?” Duncan’s deep voice startled him, as the man approached from behind. “Come, Gregor. Hurry. We must be away from this place of enchantment.”
Gregor set aside his bow and lifted the woman into his arms. She was as light as abairn. He stood, and turned toward his captain. “This is a faerie hill? That explains much.”
